Why are we stuck worrying about our looks.
Why do we have to be skinny and perfect just to please you.
Why do we have to have big boobs and a big ass just to get your attention.
You may say personality is key but when we are alone all you want
Is a perfect me.
And I can't give you that.
I'll spend hours over the toilet and
Not eating but
That's not good enough for you.
And now you've created a monster who's addicted to the scale.
Watching the pounds go down
Until I can't work anymore.
Are you happy now that I'm sick and weak but have the skinnest body you've seen?
I hope so. I changed for you.
And only you.
YOU ARE READING
Loud Pøetry Spilled From The Quiet Soul
PoetryAll of these are mine. Not the Internet. Trigger warning. (Self mutilation, depression, anorexia, etc....) And my apologies if they aren't even slow to Bukowski or Anything....I just wanted to try
